Christmas Magic
by Arcane Jill
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, and Buffy is having the gang over for a nice Christmas dinner. Only problem is, she's got some issues to deal with from the past before this can be a merry Christmas... and Spike's presence isn't helping. (set after Wrecked)


The house, from the outside, looked like any other suburban house. There were multicolored lights twined around the twin pillars of the porch, and those electric candles with the orange lightbulb flames burned in each window. But inside, the Slayer and the Witch huddled over an ancient tome, puzzling over the arcane contents.  
  
"Do you really have to sift flour?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her nose. "I mean, what do you sift it with?"  
  
"A flour sifter, actually," Willow said, still staring at the page. "And no, I never do. Rose-water? Bicarbonate of soda? Buffy, how old is this cookbook?"  
  
She shrugged. "Don't know. It was Mom's, and I think maybe Grandma's or her mother's. Mom never made any of these cookies, though..." Buffy picked up another book and impatiently fanned through the worn yellow pages. "Here! Pecan drops. The ones rolled in colored sugar. These were Mom's favorite."  
  
Buffy attacked the bag of pecans with the little hand-turned mill. "This thing looks like a mini torture device, not a kitchen appliance."  
  
"But you could only torture very little demons with it," Willow said, carefully measuring out non-sifted flour into the big mixing bowl. "Ooh! Or parts of demons! Bet that'd hurt."  
  
Buffy set the mill down on the counter. "Will, do you ever step back and think about how bizarre our lives are?"  
  
Willow waved a finger and lit another tiny magical light over the bowl. "That's four cups. I always lose count. Nope." She grinned. "Completely normal."  
  
"Thought you were laying off the magic." Buffy's voice was calm but firm.  
  
Willow dropped her head guiltily and the four lights blinked out. "Sorry. Old habits..." She looked up as Buffy handed her a pencil, and she drew four small lines on the corner of the recipe. "Right. Four cups."  
  
"Hey, don't go all mopey. This is the right thing to do. You know that."  
  
"Yeah." Willow's eyes briefly lit up. "Tara's been pretty understanding. Not really trusting me yet, but she's trying."  
  
"And that's why no magic lights is really important." Willow nodded. Buffy sighed. "That, and keeping you from wrecking anyone else's car."  
  
"Spike's not driving the DeSoto anymore, right? I could always wreck that," Willow grinned, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
At Spike's name, Buffy's mood shot through the floor. Gah! Why couldn't she even hear his name without picturing him lying there on the floor of that destroyed house, the next morning, all... naked... She gave the mill a nasty little shake and shredded more pecans, glad for a small piece of violence.  
  
"Uh, Buff?" She was suddenly aware that Willow was staring at her vicious pecan shattering. "More attached to the car than I thought you were?"  
  
Buffy forced a casual smile. "God, no. That car smells like a bar poured into an ashtray."  
  
"Ah." Willow went back to measuring flour, then sugar, all very deliberately. "So if you're okay with the car, then it must've been the mention of Spike's name that caused you to wig. Did you guys get in another fight or something? You've seemed kind of avoid-y lately."  
  
"No. I mean, no, not avoid-y, no fight; well, yes, fight, but no more than usual. You know, Spike. Grr. Evil." God! She was just digging herself in deeper. She was so not going to explain why the thought of Spike sent her heart rate sky high.  
  
"Actually... he's been pretty helpful lately. Even a self-involved witch can notice that. You know, like me." Willow grinned. "Even Xander suggested we ask Spike about something or another the other day."  
  
"I think that was just a guy thing. You know, Xander feeling like there was way too much estrogen in the room." Buffy glanced over at the recipe. "Exactly how many pecans to I have to grind up?"  
  
"Yeah, and Anya's wedding planning isn't helping him feel any more manly. Pecans? Two cups. Did you hear her latest plan for his bachelor party?"  
  
"Wasn't it something about a demon strip- oh, hey, Dawn. Home already?"  
  
Dawn burst into the kitchen with all the subtlety of fireworks. "Duh, it's almost five, and I told you I'd be home from Janice's before dinner." She surveyed the kitchen full of baking implements. "Or, are we having cookies for dinner?"  
  
"No. No cookies for dinner," Buffy said, trying to sound parental. Then she relented. "Call for pizza. Whatever you want. Will, you want pizza?"  
  
"Sure! How about Hawaiian?"  
  
Dawn grinned. "Mmm, my favorite. Pizza with pineapple and ham. Buffy, you like Hawaiian, right?"  
  
Buffy made a face. "Half veggie."  
  
Little sis stuck out her tongue, and started rummaging through the drawer with the takeout menus. "Veggie, schmeggie. Can I put the sugar on the pecan drops?"  
  
Buffy was about to argue, then spotted a sisterly bonding moment in the making. "Sure, as long as you go put on a Christmas CD after you order the pizza."  
  
"Order the pizza. Turn on the music. Bossy much?" This time Buffy stuck out her tongue, getting a patented Dawny eye-roll as she flounced out of the room with the cordless phone and the menu.  
  
Buffy looked at Willow. "Hawaiian? Sucking up to my little sister, how tacky."  
  
"Hey, she can be a real terror, you know? Runs in the family." Willow laughed as Buffy threw a pecan at her.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Not far away, Spike sat in his crypt, pondering the sad state of affairs he was in. He was a vampire, damn it. He was supposed to be out killing or at the very least maiming, not sitting there thinking about sodding Christmas decorations.  
  
In the very center of the room was his sole nod to the season -- a tree he'd nicked from the lot down the block who were selling them. At the time, he'd had a few beers, and it seemed like a reasonable idea. After all, if Buffy came by his crypt and saw he had a tree and all that, she'd have to see him as something other than whatever she'd been hollering on about the last time he'd seen her. That night, looking for Dawn when she was with Red.  
  
Except Buffy hadn't stopped by at all, hadn't even been a blip on the radar since that night. It was like she was avoiding him, he thought ruefully. No, it was actually pretty clear she was avoiding him. So she hadn't had the privilege of seeing his half-assed attempt at holiday spirit.  
  
The tree had sat in the middle of the room devoid of decorations for a week, until in a fit of sheer boredom one day he'd made a chain from beer can tabs and strung it along the branches, where it glittered silver in the candlelight. But now, Christmas Eve, it looked pretty barren. And he couldn't quite decide which was the more pathetic, the tree or the vampire.  
  
Wasn't like he didn't like Christmas. Dru'd always been in favor of it, what with carolers on every corner like presents just for her. And he still remembered Christmases past that were happier, mortal Christmases that didn't involve death and dismemberment. But he'd pushed those memories back, far enough that in over a hundred years, his one concession to the season was that Charlie Brown TV special that he was a bit of a sucker for. And now, in the middle of his own crypt, was a tree equally miserable as the one in the cartoon.  
  
Avoiding him. She'd been happy enough the night they were together, he thought; but for once, even that image didn't cheer him up. Now she was staying the hell away from him, and he was stooping to pitiful tactics to impress her like a Christmas tree that she wasn't even going to see. Well, at least he still had his dignity. Avoiding him or not, he was not going to wander over to her house and see if she was there, see if she'd acknowledge him if he got in her face. He might not be the Big Bad anymore, but he'd be damned if he was going to crawl to her like a lapdog.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The pizza was almost gone and the first tray of cookies were finally coming out of the oven when there was a knock on the back door. Hands still sticky with cookie dough, Dawn bounded over to answer it. "Hey! Come on in, we have pizza. If you like Hawaiian or, ew, veggie."  
  
Buffy didn't have to look up. There was only one person Dawn was ever that happy to see.  
  
"Hi Spike," Willow said. There was a conspicuous absence of greeting from Buffy, who was up to her elbows in cookie dough, silently wishing for a reprieve of some kind.  
  
It was Christmas Eve -- wasn't she due any Christmas miracles for all the times she'd saved the world?  
  
Apparently not. "Pizza? Sounds good. Hey, Red. Slayer, never pegged you for much of a Betty Crocker," he drawled, sidling up to her, leaning against the counter. She debated pitching the dough at him, mixing bowl and all. "Need any help there?"  
  
"Nope," Dawn answered. "We've got a system. Buffy rolls the little balls of dough, I dip them in red or green sugar, and Willow does the parts with the oven and the timer. We're a well-oiled machine."  
  
Much to Buffy's relief, Spike left her side and was peering into the mostly empty pizza box instead. "Oh, here and I was coming to see if anyone was up for patrolling."  
  
"Spike, it's Christmas Eve. What could possibly be happening on Christmas Eve? Evil reindeer?" She was sorry the instant she spoke, but rising to the bait was almost irresistible. (That's what got you in trouble the last time, a grave little voice in her head reminded.)  
  
"Is there seriously only veggie pizza left?" Was he actually ignoring her? "Who eats bloody vegetarian pizza anyway? Can't be you, Slayer, you've got to be a carnivore. And demons don't usually care much about Christmas. Vampires either."  
  
"I am not a carnivore! And I happen to like veggie pizza." Why was she even defending herself? It was just making Willow and Dawn suppress smiles, and Spike was acting way too interested in the pizza. "And I'm so not going patrolling on Christmas Eve. I have stuff to do, anyway. Busy stuff. Girl stuff," she emphasized, looking over at Willow. She hoped Spike would assume it was distasteful and ignore her.  
  
Again, no luck. "Buffy's having a big Christmas dinner tomorrow," Dawn chirped. "Spike, you should come!"  
  
"Dawn, he's a vampire, he doesn't eat food," Buffy rushed to say. "And I'm sure he has other things to do."  
  
"Buffy..." Oh God, Willow was feeling sorry for him. No, no, no...  
  
And Dawn was making the big disappointed eyes. Buffy looked reluctantly over at Spike, who was looking over at her with great casualness. "Uh..." This was wrong, so wrong. This was Spike! And it was not the only wrongness in her life centering around Spike, which made it all the worse. And he was just gazing back at her with indifference, giving her no clue how to react.  
  
"Well, he was there last time you made a big dinner, for Thanksgiving... Hmm. That didn't go too well." Willow wrinkled her brows. Buffy remembered the Chumash incident well enough not to need a reminder. And Angel's non-appearance. "You got a little crazed about the peas, Buff. Maybe this dinner idea isn't such a good one?"  
  
"No, no, no!" She was at her wits' end. "We are STILL having dinner tomorrow, and it WILL be a nice Christmas, and Dawn. stop making that face, and Willow, I don't want to hear about the peas, they were your responsibility anyway, and Spike, you can come if you want. BUT, I'm not going on patrol tonight, I'm staying right here and finishing these cookies." She nodded to emphasize her decidedness.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"God, they really were like evil reindeer!" Buffy leaned against the porch pillar for support. She really couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this hard. She was covered in dirt and a little blood that might have been hers or might've belonged to the demons they'd just fought, but she was laughing. With Spike. She was trying to forget about that part, but it was hard when he was laughing just as hard.  
  
"Bleedin' Cladonia demons, with those antlers. You think they're bad, you should see a Chaos demon. Imagine antlers covered in slime." His laugh died away a little, and Buffy vaguely connected Chaos demons with something about Dru. Hmm.  
  
She unlocked the door and motioned for him to follow her into the living room. "Quiet, Dawn's asleep. I hope." He followed her into the dark living room, which was mercifully sister-free. "Good. I have to bring her presents downstairs later, and besides, she's a real crab when she's tired."  
  
"Good thing that doesn't run in the family."  
  
He grinned as she halfheartedly backhanded him. "Why does everybody always compare us? I was never that bad as a teenager."  
  
"You? God, no. You were too busy trying to kill me." She lazily swatted at his head, which he deflected easily. "Come on, Slayer, you can do better than that."  
  
"Oh, no you don't." She sank down on the couch, glaring. "I know where you think that's going to lead. And we're so not going there again."  
  
"No, of course not. It was horrid and... what'd you call it? Perverse?" He was still grinning at her, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. His smile fostered some other reactions, too, but she was insistently ignoring them.  
  
He sat down next to her on the couch, and she felt all the adrenaline leech from her body, leaving her suddenly so, so tired. Defeated by the battle within. She didn't want to be on red alert right now. Didn't want to have to watch every word, turn every phrase into a battle cry. She just wanted a normal Christmas. Softly, she asked, "Can we not do this right now?"  
  
It wasn't an order, it was a plea. And with a small bit of satisfaction, she saw him visibly jump at her change in tone. "What?"  
  
She leaned back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. "I just can't, not right now. Not on Christmas. Not this Christmas. I... I know it's a game, I know all the rules, but I just don't want to play right now." She opened her eyes but didn't have the strength to pick up her head, so his skeptical face was blurry through her lashes. "Just today, today and tomorrow at dinner, can we just be friends again?"  
  
"Didn't know we ever were," he mumbled.  
  
"You know what I mean. How things were. You know. Before."  
  
"Before which part, love?"  
  
"Before I noticed that you called me that."  
  
He shifted a little on the couch. "Now, how'm I supposed to know when that was?"  
  
"You know." She closed her eyes again, unwilling to deal with the possibility that this time, when it was her game, he wouldn't play along. Denial Buffy. She could have her own action figure.  
  
"Right." He was quiet for a long moment, and she wondered from closed eyes if he had fallen asleep, or somehow left without her noticing. Then he drew in a deep breath, and she opened her eyes. "You got anything to drink?"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They sat in the dark living room with two mugs of hot chocolate. Buffy had plugged in the snaky green extension cord that connected to the tree, and the room was dimly lit by the glow from the hundreds of tiny lights. She took a sip of chocolate and made a strangled noise. "Hot!"  
  
"'S what happens when the water was boiling. Usually."  
  
She rolled her eyes, secretly grateful for the normal back-and-forth banter, and set her mug down on the coffee table. "Help me bring Dawn's presents downstairs?"  
  
He followed her upstairs, into her bedroom. Buffy knelt in front of her closet rearranging shoeboxes and clothes until she revealed a pile of festively wrapped packages, which she started pulling out one at a time. "Tch, Slayer, spoil the child and spare the rod, eh? How'd you pull off such a haul?"  
  
"Daddy dearest sent a check for enough cash to ease his guilt, and instead of just handing it over, I bought presents for her to open." Buffy was still unearthing gifts from the closet depths.  
  
"What about your half of the check?"  
  
She paused a moment, then continued digging. "Dawn needs Christmas more than I do. She's younger. I bought some clothes, wrapped a couple of them so she wouldn't think Dad didn't get me anything. No big."  
  
"No, course not." Without turning around, she wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or serious. Not that it really mattered.  
  
They managed to get all the presents downstairs without waking Dawn, or even Willow, and artfully arranged them all under the tree. Buffy sat back down on the couch and picked up her cooling cocoa. "I hope she likes them."  
  
"With that many, there's bound to be something she'll like."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Yeah."  
  
He sat down next to her. "What?"  
  
"What what?"  
  
"What's really eating you? Not the presents."  
  
She sighed. "Christmas. It's so weird. I mean, I knew where all the decorations were, where Mom put the boxes away every January, and they were all labeled and everything. And I got cards and sent them to relatives, even Dad, who shouldn't get to count as a relative anymore. And Willow helped make cookies today, and we're having a nice dinner tomorrow. I mean, I got it all done." She took a sip of cocoa. "But it's all wrong without Mom."  
  
"Yeah." She watched him play with his mug of hot chocolate, tilting it, watching the contents slosh around. "I miss her too."  
  
"That's why I'm making dinner tomorrow, and everyone's coming. We're sitting down for a nice Christmas dinner. Even after the last disaster of a meal I threw." Spike looked blankly at her. "Thanksgiving? Vengeful Native American spirits? Stupid ex-uhh, never mind."  
  
"I remember." He looked amused. "You going to invoke some Indian bear spirit again? I don't know if I want to stick around for that. I was the one got stuck with all those arrows, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I know! Remember who pulled them out? Ugh." Buffy grimaced. "You were a real pain when you first showed up. On Thanksgiving, no less."  
  
"Well, not like I had any home to go to! You lot were all I had." He leaned back stiffly against the couch, and to Buffy's surprise, she realized he might be offended. "Doesn't mean I have to be here tomorrow. Ruin your festivities, an' all. Vampire, Christmas, means sod all to me."  
  
He was sulking. She was surprised, and surprised that she was surprised. Just because he was a vampire didn't mean he didn't have feelings, but he was Spike, and it came as a shock that Spike had feelings. Other than those feelings he'd had for her for so long. And that wasn't what she was thinking about, dammit! But something inside her hurt for him, this lone not-quite-a-vampire-anymore who had nowhere else to be on Thanksgiving. Or Christmas, two years later. "Don't be an idiot. Of course you have to be here." She couldn't quite meet his eyes, knowing that something hopeful and almost smirking lived there. "Dawn would kill me if you weren't here."  
  
"Can't have that, now, can we, pet?" Now he was grinning, and he was much safer when he was threatening her with imminent death. "After all, I only spent several of the best years of my unlife trying to get you killed. Don't fancy the little bit taking you out."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, you were gonna kill me so many times." She affected her best Spike imitation. " 'I kill you on Saturday.' So what happened?"  
  
"Oh, because your killing me has been so effective." He leaned back against the couch, arms stretched out. "Go ahead, dust me on your couch. Can't do it, can you? Vampire slayer, yeah ri-"  
  
She cut him off with a punch, but he caught her hand and pulled so she tumbled against him. They were nose to nose, sprawled on the couch, her heart suddenly pounding like a jackhammer. Safe? He was never safe. In a half-second he could go from death threats to holding her like this. But he didn't move, didn't lean in for the obvious kiss. Instead, he reached up, brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face. "Friends. Hmm." In the softly colored light from the Christmas tree, his face seemed less pale, more human somehow. "I don't know, Slayer. Never been much good at that."  
  
This was weird, too weird, although less weird than that night with him that she'd relived in her head a million times. Or maybe more weird, because they were in her house, where she lived, where it was real. "No, no, no. No. This-" But her words caught in her throat as he traced the curve of her jaw with his fingertip. "-isn't ever going to end well," she choked out, unable to tear her eyes away from his.  
  
"Does it really matter how it ends as long as it's worth the ride?" The Christmas lights reflected in his blue eyes, and every ounce of her being was trying to cry out in agreement, that it didn't matter, that this was where she wanted to be. In the arms of a vampire. She shivered suddenly, and he let go, as though he'd hurt her somehow. "Friends. Got it."  
  
She slid away, back onto the couch next to him; then, impulsively, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He jumped a little at her touch, then relaxed. They were both covered in various kinds of yuck from patrolling, but his shoulder was clean, and he smelled like cigarettes and leather and some faint aftershave or something, and, inexplicably, peppermint. "Mom used to hang candy canes on the tree every year," she said, softly. "Every Christmas eve, after Dawnie and I went to bed, she'd put them on the tree, tell us that Santa put them there. When we got older, didn't believe in Santa anymore, we used to beg her to give them to us before that, or to hang them up early, but she always said no. They were for Christmas, she said." Buffy smiled at the memory.  
  
She felt Spike shift next to her, and she pulled away, unsure, but his arm slid around her and she settled back on his shoulder. She looked up at him, and he was looking at the tree, his eyes faraway. "Your Mum was all into Christmas, then?"  
  
"Yeah." Buffy closed her eyes, remembering. "She always put the candles in the windows, and the lights on the house, although sometimes she made Dawn and me help. And the three of us always did the tree together. Mom was the tallest, so she did the star, and she did the lights because me and Dawn hated them." There had been that one year, that Buffy tried to put the lights on instead, but after she had been reduced to tears by the tangled wires, Mom gently took them away and shooed Buffy off to help Dawn plug in the candles. "But Dawn and I always hung the ornaments together, while Mom sat and supervised. One year, we only decorated the side you could see... We caught the tree as it was starting to tip over. Mom supervised after that." She grinned, and Spike laughed. "Then Mom put the tinsel on. Strand by strand, on every branch. It looked just gorgeous."  
  
Spike squinted in the darkness. "Doesn't look like you put it on quite the same way."  
  
Buffy sighed. "No. Dawn and I did the tree, and Willow helped. Will did the lights," she admitted guiltily. "When we got to the tinsel, I tried hanging it, but it was taking so long, and Dawn started just sort of throwing it on the tree. Most of it ended up on the floor." She closed her eyes again. "It looked so much better when Mom did it." She paused. "It was all so much better when she was here."  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, remembering. Finally, Buffy spoke. "Tell me about your Christmases."  
  
Spike laughed. "I don't think you want to hear what vampires do on Christmas, love."  
  
She punched him gently in the leg. "No, dummy. Before you were a vampire. When you were little. They had Christmas back then, right?"  
  
"Of course we had Christmas. It was the bloody Victorian era! They were all about Christmas back then."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Buffy waved her hand dismissively. "Christmas. Tell."  
  
"I don't remember much, you know." She could hear in his voice that he was lying. "Tree, eggnog, caroling."  
  
"Did you sing carols?"  
  
"Nah. Me? Come on. I was always a rebel." He was still lying. Way too much bravado. "They said, William, come on, sing with us; and I told them where they could stick their O Tannenbaum."  
  
She giggled. "You did not. I bet you were a little choirboy, all dressed in white with a candle, singing Silent Night at midnight mass."  
  
"Was not! I was never a choirboy." He snorted. "Church, yeah, that you had to do back then. Get all dressed up, make an appearance. Then a big gala dinner, more see and be seen."  
  
"Sounds like a Jane Austen novel," Buffy yawned. "Were you all Mr.- Darcy-upper -crust?"  
  
"Yeah, something like that," Spike muttered. "But, you know, that was family. Don't go thinking I was all poncy and pathetic, waitin' for some stuck-up bird to dance with me at a Twelfth-Night party, or some such rot."  
  
Buffy giggled again. "You were! You were all high society. I knew this Billy Idol lookalike thing was just a coverup." She yawned again.  
  
"Shut up, you -- bleedin' California valley girl," he growled, with zero malice in his voice. Her yawn must've been catching, because he fought to hide one of his own. "Told you, I've always been bad."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Buffy woke up to find Dawn standing over her. "Uh, good morning? You're lucky I came down here and closed the blinds before direct sunlight hit the couch." Buffy looked over and realized the she was sharing the couch with a still-sleeping Spike. Dawn sniffed. "You may want to go take a shower. You smell like a graveyard."  
  
"Only our family..." Buffy muttered. She extended a sock-clad foot to nudge the vampire awake. "Hey, sleeping ugly."  
  
Spike blinked blearily at the two girls. "What now?" He squinted at his surroundings. "I'm still here?"  
  
"That's thanks to me." Dawn was all smugness. "Some of us remember that vampires are allergic to sunlight."  
  
"Dawn, it's not like I realized he'd be waking up on the couch! Or falling asleep on the couch. You know what I mean." Buffy suddenly felt like this was all unreal. Was she really arguing with Dawn about Spike sleeping on their couch?  
  
Dawn looked from her sister to the vampire, suddenly registering something more than the fact that he was there. "Why were you guys down here, anyway?"  
  
Buffy watched Dawn's eyes grow wide and knew what thought popped into her head. "No! I mean, we were just talking. Spike came in last night after patrol and we were sitting and talking until late, and I guess we fell asleep."  
  
"Well, go get cleaned up. It's Christmas." Dawn was grinning now. "And I'm not opening presents while you guys stink." She turned around then, and saw the pile of wrapped boxes under the tree. "Oh! Or maybe I can just ignore you guys."  
  
Buffy extricated herself from Spike and the couch, and managed to stand up. Her clothes were definitely going to need some serious laundry pre- treating. "No, you wait until I come back downstairs. We'll open presents together."  
  
Spike stood up then, turning his back to the girls as he threw on his coat. "Guess I should get going, then."  
  
Buffy and Dawn both looked at him with the same look of impatience. Dawn managed to get the comment out first. "Uh, Spike? Daylight, remember? I closed the blinds?"  
  
He still wouldn't look at them. Buffy felt that same hurt she'd felt last night, wanted to reach out and fix him somehow. "Yeah, well, I'll find a way to get home. Don't want to intrude on the mushy family thing."  
  
At that moment, Willow bounded down the stairs, all feety pajamas wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. "Good morning! Merry Christmas! Wow, my first Christmas -- ack!" She saw Spike and almost fell headlong down the remaining steps. She nervously pulled her robe tighter around her, and Buffy fought back a grin. "Sorry, didn't realize -- Spike, what are you doing here?"  
  
That was it. Buffy saw the wounded look skitter across Big Bad's face and had to step in. "Spike and I fell asleep on the couch after patrol last night, so he's staying for Christmas." All three heads swiveled towards her, but she had decided, and she liked the illusion that no one messed with a decided Slayer. "I'm going to go upstairs and take a shower and get dressed, and we'll open presents after."  
  
Spike looked as though he couldn't decide if she was just saying it to mess with his head. "Well. Guess I can try to brush some of the dirt off--" He gestured at his dirt-and-demon-goo crusted clothes.  
  
"You left some clean clothes in the basement over the summer," Dawn piped up. "I bet they're still down there."  
  
Spike looked indignant. "Bloody hell. I knew I was missing stuff. Couldn't have mentioned that earlier, niblet?" She just grinned in response.  
  
Buffy sighed. "Fine. I'll shower, Spike can shower-" she shot him a look that told him not to start with her in front of the others- "and we'll all be shiny happy people to open presents."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
All cleaned up and dressed in her nice red Christmasy sweater, Buffy felt much better about the entire Spike-spending-Christmas thing. After all, he really had no one else to spend it with, and wasn't that why she was having everyone over? Because Dawn was all the family she had anymore; Willow was technically either Jewish or Wiccan -- Buffy wasn't really sure which was her religion, anymore -- and spent Hanukkah with her family, so Christmas was really just another day; Anya's family consisted of Xander; and neither Xander nor Tara had any interest whatsoever in seeing their blood relatives, on Christmas or any other day.  
  
Besides, there was that whole... thing... between her and Spike. She refused to let the word relationship even enter the picture. She wasn't having a relationship with Spike. Damn! That was the phrase she was trying to avoid. Admittedly, they had kissed... and more than kissed... and technically demolished a house. She still couldn't believe he hadn't accidentally been staked with all the splintering wood around. Her mind drifted back to memories she was absolutely no good at shutting out, and as she stepped out of her room, Buffy was so in her own world that she walked right into Dawn.  
  
"Geez, earth to Buffy!" Was Dawn always going to know exactly what tone of voice to tease her with? "So what were you guys talking about all night?"  
  
No, that tone of voice implied exactly what Dawn thought of the idea that they'd been talking all night. "Christmas," Buffy answered, and watched Dawn's face fall. She really thought she'd caught big sis. Buffy felt relief sink in that Dawn really had no idea what was going on with her and Spike. She just couldn't explain that to a fifteen-year-old who already had a major crush on him. She smiled. "I think he was a choirboy when he was a kid."  
  
"No way. He was always bad." How often did he say that if even Dawn could parrot it? And she could almost keep a straight face, too. "Hey, wait here." Dawn turned around and darted back into her room. She returned with a wrapped present, bow and all.  
  
"What's this?" Buffy turned it around, but there was no tag. "For me?"  
  
"No, I brought yours downstairs already. I figured, you probably don't have anything for Spike. And I didn't want him to feel left out."  
  
Buffy looked up at Dawn. "You bought him a present?"  
  
"Actually, I bought him a present, and I bought this one for you to give him. I figured, you wouldn't buy him anything, so if I didn't, you wouldn't give him one."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Twisted Dawn logic. I love it." Dawn stuck out her tongue. "So what is it?"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They all settled into the living room, Buffy and Dawn on the floor in front of the tree, and Spike and Willow (who had changed into real clothes before facing Spike again) on the couch. Willow still looked surprised that Spike was there, but not as surprised as Spike. He sat on the edge of the couch, as though at any moment he might need to make a quick exit into the morning sun. "What's the matter? You look like you've never seen a Christmas tree before," Dawn teased.  
  
"Just haven't had to watch children open their gifts from Santa in over a hundred years," he shot back. "Makes me yearn for the days that we used to knock over a couple of shoppers, keep them as presents, and leave the stuff they'd bought."  
  
"Enough with the vampire drama," Buffy said. She pushed a box toward Dawn. "Here, this one's yours. And pass this one to Willow." The red wrapped package Dawn had handed her was sitting by her side. Buffy wasn't entirely sure how to give it to Spike without making a big deal out of it.  
  
Soon, Dawn was surrounded by a pile of clothes and CDs, a pile of wrapping paper, and a shrinking pile of gifts left to open. Willow was thrilled by the sweater from Buffy and the earrings from Dawn. Buffy still had a couple of presents left to open, but Spike was leaning back on the couch, apparently out of flight mode, watching Dawn rip open wrapping paper but currently presentless. Dawn suddenly jerked her head up in realization. "Oh! Duh. Here." She produced a small wrapped package with a large bow from somewhere under the tree and thrust it at the vampire. "Merry Christmas!"  
  
Spike just stared at her as though she was holding a stake. "What?"  
  
"It's for you, dummy! Here. My arm's getting tired." She waved the present back and forth. "Take it, already!"  
  
He gingerly took the package, holding it as though the red and white candy cane paper might explode at any moment. He looked curiously at Dawn, then shrugged and tore open the paper. Buffy couldn't quite see what it was, except for the number 2002 on it. A calendar?  
  
"You got me a calendar?" His voice echoed Buffy's thoughts perfectly.  
  
Dawn let out a dramatic sigh. "God! Just read it. You'll like it."  
  
Spike peered at the back cover. "The Darwin Awards Page-a-Day Calendar. Blah, blah... heh." He looked up at Dawn and grinned. "It's about people who get themselves killed in extremely stupid ways."  
  
"It is not." Buffy was kneeling next to the couch, pulling the box away to see it. "...individuals who remove themselves from the gene pool in a sublimely idiotic fashion. What?"  
  
Spike was grinning madly. Willow was laughing. "It's a website, too, Buff. It's stories about people getting killed in really stupid ways. Like accidents. But funny."  
  
"It's a calendar about people getting killed." She was bewildered, but Spike was thrilled.  
  
"What can I say, little sis knows what I'd like."  
  
Dawn beamed, then glared over at Buffy. "What?" Buffy mouthed. Dawn glared pointedly at the other present for Spike. "Oh. Um, here." Buffy awkwardly put the present on the couch next to Spike. He just looked at her, amusement in his eyes. She felt ridiculous. What do you say when giving a vampire something your little sister picked out for him? "Uh. Merry Christmas?"  
  
He kept glancing over at Buffy as he unwrapped the small box. Inside was a silver pendant on a chain. "Buffy?" He looked at her, and she could see he had no idea how to react.  
  
Unfortunately, neither did she. "Dawn picked it out," she said honestly.  
  
"It's a protection amulet," Dawn said. Buffy turned to give her a dirty look. Of all things to pick out for Buffy to give Spike, not only did Dawn pick jewelery, but a protection amulet? This wasn't sending the right message at all. Dawn completely ignored her. "I thought, since you protected me all summer, you should have some protection too. Well, other than Buffy."  
  
The room fell quiet, except for the faint Christmas carols piping in from the stereo. Spike gazed at Dawn in mute surprise, then turned to Buffy, who had no excuse to make. Willow was looking at her too, and Dawn, but Buffy found herself caught in Spike's gaze.  
  
Finally, the clock by the door chimed and broke the silence. Buffy flinched at the sound and quickly looked down at the carpet. "Come on, Dawn, finish opening your presents. I've got to start cooking soon."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
By three o'clock, the Summers house was a hive of activity. Buffy was hurrying between the kitchen to check on the roast chicken and the dining room to check on Dawn setting the table. "Forks go on the left."  
  
"God, Buffy, I know! I've only been setting the table since I was, like, born." Dawn rolled her eyes.  
  
Buffy went back to the kitchen, where Willow was peeling carrots and Spike was standing in the doorway attempting to hide. "You." She pointed at him, the general with an AWOL soldier. "There's another peeler in the drawer. Potatoes."  
  
Spike stared at her like she was speaking Greek. Or maybe he spoke Greek, for all she knew. He just stared. "Potatoes?"  
  
"Yes! Peel. You're in this house, you're helping." Willow was trying not to smile. Buffy had no mercy. "Looks like you're slowing down on the carrots, there, Rosenberg."  
  
"And what are you doing, oh great slayer?" Spike hadn't moved from the doorway.  
  
"No trying to get out of the potatoes. I have to put the rolls in the oven, and start the green beans, and should we have corn?" She addressed this last question to Willow, who was busy trying to not let any carrot peelings hit the floor. "Never mind. Go! Peel!"  
  
When the doorbell rang at four o'clock, things had settled down somewhat. Spike had peeled and cut up the potatoes and popped them into the pot on the stove, casting only the occasional mutinous glance at Buffy and/or Dawn, who was being cheerfully useless while setting the table. She walked each glass back to the table one at a time, as quiet as a mouse, sneaking grins at Spike when Buffy wasn't looking. He could only wave the peeler at her menacingly.  
  
Buffy rushed from the kitchen to the front door and opened it to reveal Xander and Anya, bearing gifts. "Merry Christmas!" Anya sang out. "We've brought piles of gifts, so I expect we'll be receiving them as well!"  
  
"Merry Christmas, Anya, Xander, come in."  
  
Xander was carrying a shopping bag full of wrapped presents, which he set down gratefully inside the door, and Anya followed him inside. "Do we exchange the gifts first, or later, after the ritual dinner?"  
  
"Ritual dinner first, An," Xander said. "But before that, we say hello to everyone, and we try to not sound like a little kid who just wants presents."  
  
"But I do want presents! Why do you always insist on treating me as though I'm an infant?""  
  
Willow broke up the almost-fight by entering from the kitchen. followed by Dawn. "Xander! Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, Anya."  
  
While they were all exchanging hugs, Spike casually stepped out from the kitchen. Xander groaned. "What is he doing here?"  
  
"Why does everyone ask that?" Spike was mock indignant. "Maybe the lady of the house wants me here." Buffy shot him a look that would have killed him if he weren't already undead.  
  
Xander just made a disbelieving noise. "That'll be the day. Dawn, you invited him, didn't you?"  
  
Dawn looked smug. Anya just looked anxious. "Spike, I didn't know you'd be here. I didn't bring you a present." She glanced between Xander and Spike. "You didn't bring us anything, did you?"  
  
"Nope, nothing for you two lovebirds." He rolled his eyes. "Didn't bring presents for anyone, actually. Was more of an accident that I wound up here."  
  
"Well, good. Because if you did, then I'd be in the wrong, for not bringing you a gift. I don't want to seem inappropriate."  
  
Buffy shooed them all into the middle of the living room, like herding cats. "Sit. Enjoy the decorations. Dinner's almost ready."  
  
She disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Spike, Dawn, Willow, Xander, and Anya at a loss for words. Anya approached the tree with a predatory look. "This tree is really very lovely. You have more ornaments than we do, but ours are newer than yours." She smiled cheerfully at Xander and Dawn, both of whom gamely tried to smile back.  
  
Xander looked over at Willow. "This is just like Thanksgiving two years ago, isn't it?"  
  
"Hopefully without the vengeful spirits," she agreed.  
  
"And the bear. I didn't particularly like the bear," Spike added. Everyone looked at him. "What? I got stuck with all those arrows, too!"  
  
"I still can't believe I missed this," Dawn said. "I can't believe I was with Mom at Aunt Marie's, who's not even our real aunt, while you guys were conjuring Indian bear spirits."  
  
"It really wasn't all that fun," Anya said. "You were better off being with your mother."  
  
"Yeah, I remember a lotta arrows," Spike said. Willow made a choking noise that almost resembled a giggle. "Hey! Those arrows hurt!" The doorbell rang, and Willow scrambled for the door, eager to get away from Spike, who looked like he might risk chip pain just to avenge her laughter.  
  
She pulled the door open, and Willow and Tara just gazed at each other for a long moment. "Hey," Tara said, softly.  
  
"Hey, you." Willow smiled. "Come inside. You're missing all the fun."  
  
"Fun?" Spike's voice carried clear across the living room. "Making fun of my pain is not fun!"  
  
"Speak for yourself, evil dead." Xander was grinning. "Works for me."  
  
Buffy hurried into the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Tara, hi. Merry Christmas. Dinner is almost ready. Dawn, will you-"  
  
"Help, yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Dawn made a face at the group still sitting in the living room. "Still mad I missed the bear," she hissed under her breath so Buffy wouldn't hear.  
  
Tara cocked her head to one side. "Bear? Did I miss something here?"  
  
In the kitchen, Buffy was fussing over the gravy while Dawn carried side dishes into the dining room. "Does this look ok to you?" Buffy asked, pointing at the gravy boat.  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. They were going to get stuck like that one day, Buffy thought, and wondered if she sounded like their mother already. "Geez, Buffy, it's just gravy. It's fine." Dawn took the gravy boat and stalked off, muttering, "I don't even like gravy."  
  
This just had to go well. Buffy clenched the dish towel, digging her nails into the terrycloth. It was Christmas.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Spike was craving a cigarette. Chances were, if he lit one inside, one of the Scoobies would stake him on the spot. Harris, particularly, seemed miffed that he was even in the house. Although pissing off the whelp was always good fun.  
  
They were filling Tara in on past events in the life of the Slayer, particularly that nasty business with the Indians and the bear. Spike shuddered. He'd never been much fond of bears, and having a revenge spirit in the form of a grizzly towering over him while he was tied to a chair was not one of his favorite memories. While he was being stuck with arrows, no less.  
  
Tara just looked skeptical. "So the bear had nothing to do with Buffy's cooking?"  
  
"No! Dinner was very good. Even though it was, you know, Thanksgiving, which is not really a very multicultural-friendly holiday, which was my point from the beginning..." Red trailed off. Spike really wanted a cigarette. Nobody wanted to hear his part of the story, involving what a miserable day he'd had even before showing up at their doorstep for shelter. No, they'd much rather hear Red going on about the damned cultural whats-its of Thanksgiving.  
  
To his surprise, Tara looked over at him just then. "So that was the beginning of your being on our side?"  
  
"Well, not really. See, I was tied to a chair, and then tied up in the tub, then tied to a chair in Harris' basement--"  
  
"And of course all the times you tried to get us killed since you couldn't do it yourself," Xander chimed in.  
  
Tara shook her head. "But you came to Giles' house for help. Surely, a part of you was willing--"  
  
"Part of me's always willing, Blondie."  
  
Red rolled her eyes heavenward, and Xander made a nasty face, but Tara just smiled. "Okay. Just seems fishy to me, that you were willing to be taken captive just because there was a chip in your head."  
  
"Just because... Are you daft? I couldn't feed! Ever seen a vampire starve to death? It's not pretty."  
  
"You're still here, aren't you? How are you eating now?"  
  
Spike was at a loss for words. Tara just smiled sweetly. When did she grow a backbone and stop just being Red's girlfriend? "I liked you better when you were the quiet one."  
  
"Oh, stop arguing over when Spike started being good." Anya was still jealously ogling the tree.  
  
"I'm not good, damn--"  
  
"We should be discussing festive holiday things, like presents. Or this tree. Xander, why don't we put this silver stuff on our tree? It looks very charming. Like shredded aluminum foil."  
  
"Because tinsel is the most boring thing to put on trees except for lights," Xander answered. "You want tinsel? You put it on."  
  
Spike glanced over at the object of Anya's revelation. Funny, something about the tree looked different. The lights? He couldn't quite place it. He wondered absently what Anya would think of the pathetic little tree in his crypt. Would probably make her happier than a full cash register to see someone had less decorations than whatever she and Harris managed to dredge up.  
  
Buffy appeared in the living room, her face a little red. She was really a bit mad about these dinner preparations. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that even her stalwart friends thought she'd gone round the bend. "Dinner is ready!"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They all sat down around the dining room table, filled with food and topped with a pointsettia plant that Buffy'd picked up on her last run to the grocery store, when she'd realized they didn't have a centerpiece. Buffy sat down in her mother's old spot, at the head of the table, and ran her fingers along the seat of the chair. Mom, I hope I did this all right, she thought. I hope I'm making you proud. I hope nothing goes wrong.  
  
She looked around the table. Everyone was pulling their chairs in and kind of looking over the food, and looking at each other, waiting for someone to begin.  
  
"I'll say grace," Dawn chirped. Buffy looked over at her in horror. Dawn's version of grace was usually something like 'Good drink, good meat, good God, let's eat!' But her sister's face was utterly sincere.  
  
Spike, however, looked like he might bolt. "There aren't any crosses involved, right? Blessed food might dust me, or something."  
  
Anya laughed her weird little laugh. "Don't be silly. She's the youngest, she's the traditional choice to say grace."  
  
Buffy looked over at Willow and Tara, wondering how their respective religions could possibly fit into a Christmas blessing. Did Tara even celebrate Christmas? But Dawn was clearing her throat.  
  
"Thanks to the earth, for the food we eat, and thanks to the heavens, for the company we keep. And thanks to Buffy, for working so hard to give us all a nice Christmas dinner. And to Mom," Dawn's voice cracked a little, "who we all miss, for doing so many nice things for us that we never, ever thanked her for." All around the table, heads were bowed, eyes were cast down, all in remembrance of their Mom.  
  
Buffy felt tears starting in her eyes. "But Christmas isn't a time to be sad, and Mom wouldn't want us to be sad," she said. Dawn looked over at her, already teary. "We're all here, which is what she would want." Even Spike, she thought, looking at the blonde vampire, who was looking absolutely miserable at the mention of their mother. She had always liked Spike, for some reason that Buffy was starting to slowly understand. "Now, I think Mom would want us to eat."  
  
The food was apparently not too bad, Buffy decided, watching her friends tear into the chicken and stuffing and veggies and everything else. Spike looked way too proud of having helped cooked something, even though he had to be practically threatened to get him to peel potatoes. Willow and Tara were sitting next to each other, talking softly in between all the other conversations. Willow's hand crept over to touch Tara's arm, and Tara smiled. Buffy hoped they would get back together, sometime soon. It hurt to see Willow so heartbroken without Tara.  
  
Across the table, Xander and Anya already sounded like an old married couple. Anya was talking about presents. Go figure. "Jewelery is a traditional gift," she said happily. "Look, Xander gave me this lovely bracelet. It has little diamond chips in it, so it matches my ring." Anya modeled the bracelet for anyone who would look, including Spike, who seemed far too amused. Xander just looked proud that he'd managed to get Anya a gift that met with her approval. Wait -- suddenly it clicked why Spike looked amused. He lived to torture Xander. Buffy debated if leaping across the table to stake Spike with a piece of her chair would be considered ruining Christmas dinner.  
  
Too late. Spike was tugging at something at his shirt collar, and to Buffy's horror, it was the necklace Dawn had picked out. "Know what you mean 'bout jewelery," he said casually to Anya. Too casually. "Opened this up myself, this morning. Present from Buffy."  
  
Anya examined the silver charm with enthusiasm. "A protection amulet! How nice. That's a very thoughtful gift, especially for-"  
  
Xander cut her off. "From Buffy? In what alternate universe is Buffy trying to protect you? And why would she give you a present, anyway?"  
  
Spike just gave Xander that maddening grin that never failed to drive him up a wall. "Guess the lady doesn't dislike me as much as you seem to think."  
  
Buffy tried to sputter out a response, but she couldn't quite figure out how to fix this situation. Anya was still tracing the edges of the charm with an appreciative finger. "It's really very nice. Xander, don't get all crazy like you always do. This was bound to happen eventually."  
  
"What was bound to happen eventually?" Buffy felt like her lungs were about to explode. Spike was still grinning.  
  
"That you and Spike would get together," Anya said calmly. "I'm guessing you're together? That's why he was here this morning?"  
  
"You're with Spike?" Xander was just this side of hysterical.  
  
"What?" Even Willow had a shocked look on her face. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong, but, well, Spike? And you didn't tell me?"  
  
Everyone was staring at her. Buffy shoved her chair back from the table into the wall with a crunch. "No!" She slammed her hands down on the table. "No, no, no! Just - shut up! This is supposed be a NICE-" she slammed her hands down again- "CHRISTMAS-" slam- "DINNER!" Slam. And now she'd ruined it. Buffy turned and fled into the kitchen, hoping she'd get out of sight before the tears started.  
  
The six people still sitting at the table watched her run out in silence. Finally, Anya spoke. "So, I guess you and she aren't together after all."  
  
Spike didn't dignify that with an answer. They heard the back door slam. "I'm going out for a smoke," he said. No one argued as he stood up from the table and made his way into the kitchen.  
  
Dawn looked around, and in a small voice, said, "I picked out the amulet. It actually had nothing to do with Buffy. He was here this morning because they both crashed on the couch after patrolling." No one answered her, as the back door slammed again.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Buffy threw herself down on the back steps, knees crunched up to her chest, sobbing into her arms. This was all wrong. This was supposed to be a nice Christmas dinner, and instead, it was all about her weird not-a- relationship with Spike that nobody knew about but it seemed like everybody could see. The back door opened and closed behind her. Please let it be Dawn, or Willow, just not...  
  
Spike sat down next to her in a patch of shade. "I should have found a sunny place to sit," she spat out.  
  
"What did I do?"  
  
"Let everyone think. That."  
  
"I didn't have anything to do with it, love."  
  
"Stop calling me that." She raised a teary face to him. "You were egging Xander on, and you know it."  
  
"I always do that. So does he. It's called male bonding, pet."  
  
"Don't call me that either." She sank her head back down onto her arms. "Everybody knows."  
  
"There's nothing to know." His voice was like chipped glass, and she glanced up at him in surprise. He wasn't looking at her. "There's nothing between us, right? Just a couple of kisses, one night of, what'd you call it? A freak show?"  
  
"Don't throw my words back in my face."  
  
"Why not? You threw them at me." He turned to her now, eyes filled with anger and hurt. "You've known that I love you for almost a year. When you died, it almost killed me."  
  
"I-"  
  
"Then you come back. And you only come around when you want something, first information, then something more." He looked away, silent, then lit a cigarette with a practiced move. She watched him draw a deep breath of smoke, then exhale it. "And that's it. So what is there for them to know, Slayer? That you spent a night slumming with your poor lovesick pet vampire? That you're just toying with someone you don't feel a damn thing for?"  
  
"I never said I don't feel anything for you."  
  
"Oh, that's a good one, Slayer. It would never be me, remember? I'm beneath you."  
  
"God, Spike! Around you I'm, I'm all feelings." She was staring at the looping red yarn of her sweater sleeve. "Every responsible thought I have goes out the window and it's all -- fire, and fighting, and... not fighting." She blushed, feeling as red as her sweater. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation. "But it's all... wrong. Even if I did feel anything. There can't ever be anything real between us."  
  
Spike sighed. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Because I'm a vampire but I'm not bloody Angel."  
  
"This has nothing to do with Angel!"  
  
"This has everything to do with him, and you know it." Spike threw down his half-smoked cigarette and smashed it with his heel. "That wanker's been the cause of most of the pain in your life, and still you're moping over him like a bird in some bad country song."  
  
"Excuse you? He's caused my pain? That's priceless, coming from the vampire who tried to kill me and my friends more times than I can count."  
  
"That's right, I did. But that was a long time ago. People change, Buffy. Don't believe me? I was with Angelus when the four of us were murdering our way through Europe. Want to believe he's the same guy?"  
  
"He has a soul."  
  
"And I don't, but I still love you more than he ever did."  
  
Stung, Buffy lifted a hand lightning-quick to Spike's face. He caught her hand and stopped it halfway. "You're a liar."  
  
"I'm telling the truth." She was so angry she felt ready to combust. Spike's eyes reflected the same. "I'm not saying he didn't love you. I'm saying he didn't love you enough to stay." She wanted to look away, to hide, to cry. She couldn't. "He left for your own good? What kind of crap is that?" He let her hand drop to rest on the porch. "And he's still causing you pain, even after he's been gone three years. You think I don't know that half the shadow over your head about this stupid dinner party is that two years ago, Angel was lurking in the shadows during your big Thanksgiving party and you didn't see him?"  
  
"That's not -- he was wrong, he shouldn't have hidden that from me. I went to LA. We worked all of that out." Something tickled the back of her head, the way it always did when she thought about that trip. Buffy shook her head. "Not that it's at all your business."  
  
"It is my business. Because it's thanks to him that you have this idea in your head that I'm no good for you."  
  
"No, Spike. You're no good for me because you're not good."  
  
"That's right. I'm not good. I don't have a bloody soul to go and lose the one moment things go right. And they did, and you weren't complaining," he said. "But that's not what this is all about."  
  
"You're right, it's not." She was panicking. Inside, the little part of her that monitored for danger was screaming to exit via the emergency doors now. Sex with Spike was all kinds of wrong. But it was once, and it was over. (The million replays in her head notwithstanding.) But a relationship with Spike was worse. It was impossible. He was a vampire. No soul. Not like Angel, but like Angelus. And Angelus, like all soulless demons, was incapable of love. That's why what happened, happened. "This is about the entire wrongness of you being here at all. I was a fool-"  
  
"You are a fool." He stood up. "You want me to go? Fine. I'll leave. Walk into the sun and let you watch me burst into flame. It's pretty gruesome, but nothing compared to what you're doing to me now."  
  
"You're threatening to dust yourself because I don't love you?" The panic was slowly being overcome with anger. "You really are disturbed."  
  
"No, love." He used the word deliberately, but didn't give her time to react in disgust. "I'm not talking about you not loving me. I may be pathetic, but I'm not quite that bad. What I'm talking about is that I'm bloody well sick of listening to you put up your walls every time you think I might be right about something. You don't love me? Fine. Walk away. Haven't yet, have you? But I say two words about that nancy-boy of my sire, and suddenly we're back to 'Spike's a vam-pire, shouldn't let him play with the other puppies'."  
  
"You-"  
  
"I'm. Not. Done." He sat down hard on the porch step, next to her, looking at her face to face. "The deal is, you've got two ghosts hanging over your head, one in heaven, one in LA. Your mum was an amazing woman, she was, and I can understand your wanting to do everything right by her. But the other one's not worth your energy anymore. He loved you, left you, tried to kill you. You sent him to hell, he came back, left you again. It's over. He's gone, Buffy. And you're not the little girl you were three years ago, four years ago. You don't need him to swoop in all dark-avenger and be the big shadow fighting for you." He took a breath, for punctuation. "He's the whole reason why you've convinced yourself that you'll never love me. Because he was a vampire, and I'm a vampire, and I don't even have a soul. Makes me no better than Angelus. Well, I'm not Angelus, in case you hadn't noticed. I've already tried to kill you, and I sure as hell love you, but I'm damn well not leaving. So if you're going to decide you don't love me, it had better be because of me, because of who I am, and not because of your ex."  
  
She didn't say anything for a long moment, just sat and stared at him. At first, he stared right back, daring her to make a smart remark, deny him, anything. Then he glanced away, lit a cigarette. Drew a deep breath of smoke, looked back at Buffy, exhaled it. Still she said nothing. She didn't look away. She just sat. Spike flicked the ash off the tip of the cigarette, fidgeted, looked away, looked back. "Bloody hell, woman! Aren't you going to say anything?"  
  
Buffy looked away, looked down at the sleeve of her sweater, at Spike's worn black denim jeans. He had worn black denim jeans nearly every time she'd ever seen him in the last five years. Did he even own anything else? He was waiting for an answer. "What do you want me to say?"  
  
It wasn't a challenge; she wasn't angry. Spike sighed and let his chin drop to his chest. "Really want an answer to that?"  
  
She swallowed. "Maybe you're - right. About some of it," she rushed to add, as he looked back at her. "About the Angelus part. You know. Ghost." She'd never seen anyone ever get quite so angry at her except for Spike. And yet he was still sitting there.  
  
"Yeah, well." All his anger seemed to have vanished. Maybe he'd just needed to get it all out, she mused. "Doesn't change anything, does it. Still leaves us out here on your porch, with the whole group of them in there thinking you and I are involved."  
  
The way he said it made a shiver run up her spine. Don't think about it, she told herself. Don't think about being involved with Spike. In an abandoned house. Don't think about waking up next to Spike, that one fleeting moment she hated herself for, when she realized where she was and with who and her heart leapt sky high. She'd covered it, hidden it, repressed it; but she couldn't make it go away. And it burned.  
  
Burned like his eyes. He was close, so close next to her. Gazing right into her eyes. For a moment, no one else existed, just him, and that small voice inside her was screaming to just go for it, lean over and -  
  
The back door swung open sharply behind them, and they flew apart as though there was anything to hide. Buffy felt her cheeks flush bright red as she realized it was her little sister. "Uh, hi guys," Dawn said. "Um. Well, I told everybody what really happened. You know. With the necklace."  
  
"That's great, bit." Spike was pulling off the casual offhand thing. Thank God. Buffy couldn't turn around.  
  
"Yeah." Dawn's voice was a cross between confused and amused. "Well, everybody's just fine with the way you two are not together. You know, in any way."  
  
Buffy was mortified. Maybe she could just crawl under the porch. Thank God Dawn hadn't waited another minute to come find them. "Thanks Dawn," she managed to eke out.  
  
Dawn paused, and Buffy knew without turning what look she was giving her. "Uh huh. Well, I don't want to interrupt. I'll just meet you guys back inside." And with that, she turned and went back in the house.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Buffy and Spike reappeared in the dining room moments after Dawn. Everyone looked up as they entered. Buffy wanted to crawl under the table, but decided to try for dignity. "Guys, I'm sorry I overreacted," she said, still standing.  
  
Everyone spoke at once. "Buffy, I'm sorry, we were the ones who overreacted," Willow said, the only distinguishable voice other than Anya's "...presents."  
  
Buffy shrugged. Casual, she told herself. Look at Spike, he's acting like nothing happened. Ever. "Guess we're even then." She sat down.  
  
Somehow, after that moment of awkwardness, dinner picked back up where it had left off. "How did patrol go last night?" Xander asked.  
  
"OK," she answered. "We found three evil reindeer demons attacking some teenagers. Spike recognized them, but I forget what they're called."  
  
"Cladonia demons," Spike supplied. "Nasty buggers."  
  
"Ooh, he's right," Tara piped up. "Cladonia demons are bad news. They usually stay out of sight unless they're preying on humans. Did you kills them?"  
  
"Yeah," Buffy answered. "You wouldn't believe the amount of yuck involved."  
  
"Well, their blood is-" Willow paused. "Hmm. Christmas dinner. Probably not the best place to discuss demon biology, huh?"  
  
"At least there's no demons here. Well, present company excluded," Tara said, gesturing at Anya and Spike. "OK, how about, no demons attacking us here?"  
  
"That does rate this dinner well above the last one I tried," Buffy said. Everyone looked at her, unsure how to react. "What, I can't have a sense of humor about how badly that went? You know, trying to defend ourselves against vengeful spirits that we didn't wrong, personally?"  
  
"Yes, I'm very glad Xander doesn't have syphilis again," Anya said. Tara's eyes widened. "Did we leave that part out of the story?"  
  
"An-" Xander started to cut her off, then stopped. "Oh, hell with it. I'm pretty glad that Buffy's dinners don't always involve deadly diseases too."  
  
Buffy looked over at Anya, then at Xander, the corner of her mouth crooking up.  
  
"I'm just glad there's no sodding bear," Spike grumbled. "No one takes me seriously about this. You don't want to be tied to a chair with a bear-"  
  
Buffy couldn't help it, she just started laughing.  
  
"'S not funny!" That just made her laugh harder, and Willow and Dawn joined in. "I came to you people for help, and wound up tied up, stuck full of arrows like some bleedin' pincushion, and now you think it's funny?"  
  
"Actually, Spike, it was pretty amusing then too," Buffy choked out. "But now it's really funny."  
  
Spike was pouting. "Yeah, like your ex showing up, and Harris here blurting it out after everyone'd kept it a secret."  
  
The room got very quiet. He'd mentioned the part of the story that everyone tried to gloss over, because usually it ended with Buffy getting upset. All faces turned unconsciously to her.  
  
"Angel was there?" Tara asked softly. Willow shushed her.  
  
Buffy sighed. It was now or never. "Yeah, Angel was there." She'd said that name way too much today. Thanks, Spike. "He came to help, but didn't want me to know he was here, and then I wound up going to LA to argue about it." Ugh, tickle in her head, shiver. "And I only found out because Xander kind of let the cat out of the bag." Spike was looking at her with that intense look of his, but this time she didn't answer it back. Instead, she forced a smile. "It was pretty funny, I guess. Looking back."  
  
It was like the floodgates had opened - the first time she'd talked about it without freaking out. "Buff, the look on your face was priceless," Xander said. "You looked like your eyes were going to fall out of your head."  
  
"What about you?" Willow shot back at him. "When Angel showed up. You're all protect-y of Anya, and he's all like, 'I'm not evil! I haven't been evil in a long time!'"  
  
Buffy tried to process this. "Xander thought Angel was evil?"  
  
"Yes! It was so funny.," Willow grinned. "I thought so, too, when he found me. I think it was because he was all sneaking around, you know, why else would he not just tell you he was here?"  
  
Buffy was fighting back a real smile this time. The thought of Angel being all broody and guilt-ridden, and Willow and Xander assuming he was evil, was pretty funny. "When did you see him?"  
  
"We were out walking, and we ran into Riley, so I ducked into the coffee shop... uh." Willow gulped. "But you probably don't want to talk about Riley."  
  
Willow looked panicked, Xander looked tired, and Tara looked utterly lost. Spike, however, was smirking, and it gave her courage. "Oh, what the hell," she said. Spike raised an eyebrow. "It's all in the past, right?" The panic left Will's face. Then something clicked in Buffy's head. "Oh, God. Angel saw me talking to Riley?"  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
As Willow had said yesterday, their lives were completely normal. Christmas dinner proceeded with more conversations about demons, her exes, and Anya's occasional reminding that there were presents to be opened. Finally, Willow and Xander cleared the table (Buffy started to, but Willow insisted and dragged him with her) and everyone moved to the living room. Anya was practically vibrating with glee at getting to open presents.  
  
Buffy went back into the kitchen to bring out the cookies they'd made yesterday, and when she came back, the only place to sit was on the couch next to Spike. He grinned suggestively at her, and she sighed and sat down, rather than cause a scene. She'd already done that enough today. "Don't start," she whispered.  
  
"I never do," he grinned back.  
  
Buffy glanced over at the tree for the first time all day, and jumped. She poked Spike, who gave her a look. "The tinsel," she whispered.  
  
He looked at the tree. "That's it," he said. "That's what's different. You fixed the tinsel."  
  
"I didn't touch it," she said. "I haven't even looked at the tree since, I don't know, maybe last night."  
  
"Maybe Dawn fixed it," he suggested.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No way. Maybe Willow did." She looked over at Willow, unwrapping her present from Xander and Anya. "Maybe she used magic. Oh, God."  
  
"Just because it's all nice doesn't mean it was done by magic, pet. Your mum used to put it on by hand, you told me."  
  
"Yeah, but that was Mom," Buffy answered. "Who here would have the patience to fix that stuff, strand by strand?" She reached her foot out and inconspicuously nudged Willow, who looked over at her. Buffy pointed at the tree and mouthed the word, "Tinsel?"  
  
Willow looked over at it, then back at Buffy. "Looks great," she said. "You fixed it?"  
  
Dawn caught on to the conversation, and looked up at the tree. "Wow! Holy cow, Buffy, you fixed the tinsel? Is that what you and Spike were doing last night?"  
  
"No," Buffy said, trying to ignore the part about Spike. "I was asking Will if she fixed it."  
  
"Not me," she answered. "Jewish, remember? No tinsel experience."  
  
By now, everybody else was listening, and Buffy looked around. Everyone shook their heads. "So nobody fixed the tinsel?"  
  
The only sound was the CD player, softly cranking out ELP's 'I Believe in Father Christmas.'  
  
"Maybe it was Mom," came Dawn's very small voice. "She's the only one who ever put tinsel on like that."  
  
Buffy sat, and listened to the music, and looked at the tinsel. If it wasn't Willow... it wasn't Dawn... it wasn't anybody. "Maybe it was, Dawnie," she said, smiling, "maybe it was Mom."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Later that night, after Xander and Anya had gone home and Willow and Tara had gone out to a movie, and Dawn had dragged Spike off to show him something they were arguing about, Buffy stood alone in the living room. She'd turned off the lamp, so the only light in the room came from the tree. She looked at the tree, at the ornaments and the lights and the tinsel, and tried to understand. "Mom?" she said softly. "Mom, was it you? Was it magic? Was is someone who won't admit it?"  
  
"Won't admit what?" Spike was suddenly there, standing behind her, snaking an arm around her waist like a boyfriend would.  
  
She sighed, unable or unwilling to make him leave. "The tinsel."  
  
"Christmas magic, pet." He leaned forward and rested his chin against her shoulder. "Works everything out in the end. Kind of like deus ex machina, but without the nasty implications."  
  
"What's going to happen?"  
  
He paused a moment before answering. "Sometime after New Year's, you'll take down all the decorations, and stow them back in the basement."  
  
She laughed. "You know what I mean."  
  
"With what? With us?" He nuzzled her neck in an entirely non-vampiric way. "You want to hear what I'm hoping for?"  
  
"I can imagine what you're hoping for." She let the familiar snap back into her voice as they slid into bantering.  
  
"Can you?" His voice was almost a growl, and she blushed involuntarily. She could feel him grinning against her neck, his breath tickling her. "Guess you can imagine it. Didn't know you thought about me that way, Slayer."  
  
"Oh, shut up, Spike." But she was smiling as she turned to face him, and when he kissed her, everything else disappeared. No tree, no presents, no Dawn somewhere upstairs just waiting to pounce on them in a compromising position. Just his lips on hers, and his arms around her, holding her tight.  
  
She finally broke the kiss for a gasp of air, and he grinned. "Sorry." She shook her head, smiling, then pulled him close for a hug, pressing her face into the part of his neck where it met his shoulder.  
  
This was only going to get weirder, she knew that for sure. "Merry Christmas, Spike."  
  
"Merry Christmas, love."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
~END~  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They said there'd be snow at Christmas  
  
They said there'd be peace on Earth.  
  
Hallelujah, Noel, be it heaven or hell,  
  
The Christmas we get we deserve.  
  
- "I Believe in Father Christmas" by ELP 


End file.
